Well, in 5 more minutes it will by my "baby's" 5th birthday.
I remember when my first child (now a teenager) turned 5 years old. It was such a huge feeling. I was the mother of a 5 year old. 5 indicates so much....the starting of school, the transformation from toddler to child, the first marker of a separation from mom.
And now, my baby is turning 5. This is the third and last time this event will happen in my life. He is the last child I will have carried within the womb I no longer have. He is, and forever will be, my "baby".
Pookie has come a long way. He still does not have a precise diagnosis, something we hope to change this year. He still gets frustrated when people don't "hear" him (his explanation of others not understanding). He has never been able to quit moving, even in sleep. He is obsessed with ropes and often reminds me of Linus with his blanket.
Pookie has taught me that life doesn't have to be scheduled. That sometimes a child really can not control their actions.
I've listened to him recently beg me to tell him why he does "bad" things when he doesn't want to. He looses total control when he's in an emotionally charged, or his senses are overloaded. Although I hope that his realizing he is losing control will help us in the path to be able to find alternative behaviors, my heart breaks at his agony.
I'm flooded with emotions thinking of all that his 5 years has brought him. I am heartbroken that for so long he's been unable to articulate any of his emotions, and now that he can it's clear he is fighting a battle within himself that I don't know how to help.
I want each of you to stop a moment and reflect on the judgment calls you've made in your life. I want you to think of the mother you saw shopping in the grocery store while her infant screamed. How you thought she should leave and come back later when her infant was calmed. Realize that it could have been me you saw......a mother who had no choice but to shop with her screaming infant........an infant who did not stop screaming until he was 16 months old.
Think about the child you saw lying in the floor thrashing and screaming. You said to yourself that if it were your child you would know what to do. Yet, that to could have been Pookie. A child who feels pain at light and sounds when others don't even notice.
How about the two parents who were holding their child down and fighting to get the straps fastened in his carseat? What did you think when you saw them? That could have been us........our hearts breaking when holding him down knowing that the straps were causing him agony, yet knowing we couldn't sit in the parking lot for hours, or days, until it wasn't so bad for him.
Maybe you saw the child who starting hitting everyone when they spoke, only to have the mother hold him close, whisper in his ear while rubbing his arms and back. Maybe you thought that she was encouraging his behavior,when in reality she was offering feedback stimulation in an effort to help his brain process the information it was stuttering on.
I was that person before Pookie came into my life. I was the mother who had raised two very well behaved children. I was the mother who was stopped in the store by strangers to be told what "well-behaved" children I had. I was the one stopped and told how "impressed" people were with my little angels.
I was the person who looked at the screaming child and words like "spoiled" would come into my mind. I was the person who thought the child who slapped their parents deserved swift and harsh discipline and looked down upon the parent that seemingly condoned it. I was the person who looked upon seemingly ill behaved and ill mannered children and blamed the parents. I was the person who, if the child looked "normal", then the child should behave "normal".
I am now the parent with the child that is sometimes judged as "spoiled". I'm am now the parent that is sometimes hit, kicked or bitten and judged as not offering strict enough discipline. I am the one blamed for not being an effective parent due to my child seemingly being ill behaved.
Yet, I am also the parent that understands that my child begins each and every single prayer he says with, "God, please help me be nice." I am the parent that knows that my sons heart aches when he causes others pain and that he cried out to understand why he does these things without being able to control it. I am the parent that knows that seams in socks, tags in clothes, a soft wind, light, sound, or even the hum of a car engine causes my son pain in a way we can never understand. I am the parent who longs for others to understand.
I am the parent that is pleading with you to stop and rethink the judgments you've made in your life.
This week is "Make A Difference Week". I challenge you to change your thought patterns. The next time you see a parent shopping in the store with a screaming child, offer assistance. Can you help her load her cart with items while she holds her child? Can you help her through the checkout line or to load the groceries in her car? The next time you see a parent trying to strap a thrashing child into a carseat, again offer your assistance. Maybe you can get the child's attention for that split second it takes for the buckle to go "snap". When you see the child who strikes out at their sibling or parent and see the parents attempt to calm the child, walk up to the parent and tell him/her what a great job they are doing.
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